


For Life

by Unhinged



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Diabetes, Gen, Sick!Bård, bro feels, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:40:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unhinged/pseuds/Unhinged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Bård discovers that his life will never be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lundsdotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lundsdotter/gifts).



> This is for the wonderful Emma Martine.
> 
> Thank you for the translations!

Helga Ylvisåker first suspected that something was wrong with her middle child when the boys were in their early teens. Like typical teenage boys, they had endless appetites. But Bård never put on any weight. Bård also sometimes got unusually cranky and distant when he was really hungry. She knew that this could also be typical of teenage boys, but she knew better. Call it mother's instinct or sixth sense, she knew. The rest of the world found out in a pretty dramatical fashion.

It was a normal enough day. They had meatballs and mashed potatoes for lunch at school and Bård wasn't happy. Mashed potatoes always gave him a horrible stomach ache, so he ate as little of them as possible. The meatballs were also rather dry so he ate less of those as well. When the lessons were finally over for the day, Bård was ravenously hungry. His friends were doing tricks with their bikes though, so Bård went to a nearby park with them, joining in on the fun. They spent a good while doing pathetic tricks and laughing their asses off whenever someone fell. When they had been at it for an hour, Bård felt somehow weird, but he ignored it, he was having too much fun. By five o'clock, Bård realised that he should probably go home.

Bård rode his bike towards home. When he was about half-way there, he noticed Vegard walking down the same road. Bård decided to pull a little prank and he rode silently right behind Vegard, yelling into his ear when he reached him.

“Shit, what the hell!” Vegard yelled when he noticed it was his younger brother who had just startled him. Bård was laughing and telling Vegard his face was worth seeing and asking if he had wet himself.

“Oh shut up. You're not as funny as you think you are!”

Bård poked his tongue out and hopped off his bike to walk alongside his brother. Bård was fourteen and Vegard had just turned seventeen. It amused Bård to no end that he was starting to be taller than his older brother.

“So what's up shorty, where've you been?”

“Theatre practise,” Vegard muttered, unamused.

“You really think anyone will ever want to see your ugly face on stage?” Bård leered. He was really feeling peculiar. It was like his head was lighter than it should be.

“Shut up!” Vegard snapped and Bård could see that he had managed to really rile up his brother.

“Oh maybe you could play a monkey!” Bård managed to say before Vegard shoved him, hard. Bård was about to say something in return, but then he just snapped. He fisted his right hand and hit Vegard in the middle of his face. Vegard stumbled, unprepared for the punch.

“You fucking asshole!” Vegard shouted, trying to quench the blood that was starting to flow from his nose. “What the hell?!”

Bård ignored his brother and jumped back on his bike. He started riding down the road, pushing the pedals hard. The buzzing in his head was increasing and soon Bård wasn't really sure what he was doing anymore. He turned a corner and then everything went dark.

*****

Vegard looked at his bloody hands. He was pressing a handkerchief against his nose and walking slowly along the road. He had had just about enough of his brother and his mood swings. Sometimes he wondered why Bård would behave so erratically, but decided it was just some sort of teenage hormone thing. Vegard turned a corner and stopped dead on his tracks. That was Bård's bike, lying on the ground. And next to it –

“Bård!” Vegard yelled and ran to his brother. Bård was on the ground, jerking and convulsing and there was blood all over his face. Vegard didn't really know what to do. For a moment, he just stood there, watching his brother thrash on the ground. Then his brain switched back on and he put his arms under Bård's head to keep him from smashing it against the hard asphalt. Vegard yelled for help, not noticing how panicky he sounded and how badly his voice broke.

Bård was surprisingly strong, twisting his limbs and body and jerking backwards. Vegard could only protect his head and hope for the seizure to pass. He didn't know what was going on. Bård had been fine just two seconds ago and now he was on the ground. And where did that blood on his face come from? Vegard could only guess that he had hit his nose when he fell off the bike.

Eventually, people started gathering around the two boys. They were asking what had happened and if anyone had called an ambulance yet. Vegard didn't know. Someone ran to the nearest house to use their telephone. Some of the onlookers noted that both boys had bloody faces but Vegard tuned them all out. His little brother was in trouble and he had no idea how to help him.

Bård gave a couple of last, violent jerks and then he was still. Someone told Vegard to let go of his head and turn him to lie on his side. Vegard obeyed. Bård unconsciously spat some blood out. That was when Vegard realised that the blood wasn't coming from his nose but his mouth.

“Bård? What happened?” Vegard asked, unaware that tears were flowing down his face. Bård was still, breathing steadily but not rousing at all. Vegard had been furious with Bård just ten minutes earlier and now he was torn with worry.

It was not much later when Vegard heard the sirens of an ambulance. He was sitting on the ground next to Bård, watching a small pool of blood gather under his mouth. Something in there was definitely bleeding, but Vegard didn't know what and he didn't dare investigate in fear of moving Bård and inadvertently hurting him more. All he could do was wait in quiet desperation as the paramedics came out of the ambulance and got to work.

*****

Several hours later, the entire Ylvisåker family had gathered around Bård's hospital bed. He was doing slightly better but looked so pale and worn and scared that Vegard's insides were still twisting with worry. This was his little brother. He was supposed to protect him from everything. But what the doctors had told them, that was something that no one could protect Bård from.

There were still several tests to be run to get the final confirmation, but already the doctors had told them that Bård most likely had type 1 diabetes. The news had come as a shock to everyone else but not to their mother. She was of course worried sick, but also relieved to know that what she had noticed now had an explanation. Sometimes she had thought that Bård was simply being difficult or behaving oddly to get attention, but now they knew and their lives would never be the same.

The family was waiting for one of the nurses to come and talk to them about managing Bård's condition: how to monitor his blood sugar levels, what sort of eating habits he should adopt and how to administer insulin. Vegard knew this would all be his responsibility. Bård could be such a scatter-brain, he couldn't be trusted with his own care. They were getting a short version of the talk first and some brochures to study at home: when Bård's diagnosis was confirmed and he would get home, then they would go through everything in great detail and study and practise. It really sounded like a lot of work, but what wouldn't you do for family?

“Are you sure you i'in' see my eeh?” Bård asked again, trying to speak as normally as he could and failing miserably.

Vegard only shook his head. He didn't feel the slightest urge to mock his brother. In truth, Bård looked rather ridiculous. After he had been stabilised and the blood had been cleared off his face, it became apparent that he had lost his both upper front teeth when he crashed his bike. He would get artificial ones after he had recovered sufficiently, but until then, he would just have to do without.

Helga noticed that her younger son was clinging to his missing teeth. Bård's reaction to hearing that he had a condition that would affect his everyday life for the rest of his days had been a quiet “oh”. But when he realised that there was something missing from his mouth, he had been outraged and yelled at Vegard for not picking up his fallen teeth. Helga could recognise the denial and defence mechanism. Of course Bård was scared and didn't want to think about his illness just yet.

*****

“Hey twitchy, going dancing tonight?” One boy said and the rest of them laughed. Bård gave them his scariest glare but said nothing.

“Cat got your tongue? Oh no wait, it was the teeth!” the boy continued and the laughter increased in volume.

“Huck you!” Bård finally snapped, his patience gone. This of course made the boys laugh even harder. Bård grabbed his bag and left the classroom. Just two more days and his mouth would be fixed. He didn't know if he could last two more days without murdering his classmates.

The news of Bård's episode had spread around the small town and school fast. Bård had spent some time in the hospital and when he returned, he was met with mocking, jeering and bullying. Bård had looked fine apart from the missing teeth, so most boys had said that Bård was lying about being sick and that he really just wanted to skip school.

Bård walked very fast across the school yard and behind the school building, into a corner where there was no line of sight from any of the windows. He tossed his bag down angrily. This was so unfair. He had not wanted to be ill. He enjoyed being the centre of attention, but this was not how he wanted it to come about.

Bård sat down on the ground and hugged his knees. He would not cry. All he needed was someone to see that and he would get no respect ever again. Just two more days. Bård knew that fixing his teeth would not fix the _other_ big problem in his life, but at least he would appear normal on the outside. Hell, he would give everything to be normal.

It had not been many weeks since the incident and Bård was already learning how different his life would be. No more coming and going as he pleased. He had to constantly monitor his blood sugar levels and that was a pain in the ass. Bård laughed. Yeah, and there was that literal pain in his ass: the insulin injections. They could be given almost anywhere, but whenever his mother gave them to him, she always stuck them in his buttocks. Bård put them into his stomach himself and their father changed the spot. Vegard had absolutely refused to give one to his little brother. Bård didn't understand why. Didn't that bastard want to help him? Was he jealous of the attention Bård was getting?

Bård looked at the clouds sailing past. It was a beautiful spring day, but Bård was feeling too miserable to appreciate it. All his former friends turned out to be assholes. They mocked him for something he had no control over and gave him hell for his altered appearance. Really showed that you couldn't trust anyone.

Bård tightened his grip around his knees. He knew he had to get back to class, they still had two hours before they could go home. Bård also knew he was supposed to measure his blood sugar, eat the snack their mother had packed for him and inject the insulin, how much of whichever was needed depending on the numbers. But Bård didn't feel like doing any of that. He wanted to just live like normal. He wanted to make some sort of a scene in class and laugh with his mates. Instead, he was here, hiding behind the school building and fighting against tears that still threatened to fall. He felt so alone and disheartened. Would it ever get better?

*****

“Bård?” Vegard yelled, looking at his watch. His brother was taking forever trying pants on and Vegard was getting impatient. He was also getting worried. It had been too long since Bård had last taken his readings.

“How can you not be done yet?” Vegard continued and knocked on the door of the changing booth. Their mother had given them money, sent them to the mall and told them to return home only when both had pants that fit them. Bård had had another growth spurt and even Vegard had somehow managed to gain an inch over the summer.

“Bård?” Still no word from his brother. Vegard looked at his watch anxiously again. How many hours had it been?

“They were hideous!” Bård declared as he stepped out from the booth. He was wearing his own pants and carrying the ones he had discarded on a hanger. Vegard lifted his eyebrows at seeing how neatly Bård had folded them. Something was not right.

“Let's go sit there,” Vegard said and pointed out a bench in a quiet corner of the mall. Bård nodded and they walked over to it.

Vegard had a bag on his shoulder. He put it down and started rummaging around it. Bård sat next to him and looked around. He was feeling slightly peculiar.

“Finger,” Vegard said and Bård gave his hand to his brother. Vegard had had plenty of practise taking blood samples and feeding them into the measuring device. Bård knew he had even written some sort of chart where he followed Bård's levels that he knew of and had calculated some averages or some other typical Vegard shit. Bård didn't know or care. He just wanted one reading at a time and to react accordingly to it.

Bård closed his eyes and listened to the buzz around him. He was maybe a little bit dizzy. Bård opened his eyes. He felt his breath come a little bit faster than it should.

“Uhh, Bård,” Vegard started, looking at the numbers he had received from the machine. “You need a shot.”

“I know,” Bård answered, feeling faint.

“Then do it,” Vegard said, sounding like he was at the very edge of panicking.

“You do it,” Bård said quietly. He was really starting to feel it. “I think it's the keto... keto thing,” Bård mumbled.

“That's not funny! Come on, just inject yourself and let's go home!”

Bård leaned his head against his brother's shoulder. Vegard looked around, brown eyes huge. He had never given the injection to Bård. He didn't want to. He couldn't.

“Bård? Bård, come on!”

It was no use, Bård had all but passed out. Vegard knew he had to do it. But he was so scared of hurting his brother. What if he gave too much? What if he put it in the wrong place?

Vegard knew the theory. He had studied diabetes in all its forms endlessly. But his hands were shaking badly when he dug out one of Bård's insulin pens from his bag. He lifted Bård's shirt and found a spot near his hip bone, but not close to the navel. Vegard took a deep breath and pressed the pen against his brother's flat stomach. He pressed the insulin in and hoped he had done it correctly.

Bård was pale and breathing fast. Vegard looked around. What if Bård didn't wake up? The worry and the fear were gnawing at Vegard. Maybe he should just carry Bård out and take a taxi to a hospital right away? Vegard tried to hold himself together, to be strong for Bård. But it was difficult. The older brother was supposed to and needed to be able to protect their younger brother from all the ills of the world. But this was something no one could do anything about. This was for life.

It was several minutes later when Bård woke up. He was confused at first but Vegard explained the situation. Vegard insisted that Bård should go get checked out, but Bård claimed he was perfectly fine and just wanted to go home. In the end, they did as Bård wanted, as they often did. While they were walking home, the fear and the panic slowly lifted. Bård was okay.

This time they had been lucky.


	2. Chapter 2

“What the hell is that beeping?” Calle asked, looking around the room with his brows furrowed. He was backstage at the Folketeateret with the Ylvisåker brothers and an infernal shrill sound was disturbing his peace. The first pull of nervousness before the upcoming show was starting to invade his mind and the noise shredded what little focus and control he had.

“What beeping? I don't hear anything,” Bård said, looking around in exaggerated confusion. Vegard glared at him from across the room. The older brother was slouching in a black-and-white floral patterned armchair, scratching his hands absentmindedly. Bård had conquered the three-person sofa for himself, growling at anyone who tried to sit next to him. They had a few minutes to kill before the audience would be seated and they'd go out on the stage to meet them.

“I think Calle is going insane. Or perhaps the pressure from the live show is getting to him. Maybe we should put him in a retirement home already?” Bård asked, barely containing his glee. Vegard sighed audibly.

“Behave,” he told his brother and stuck the side of his thumb in his mouth.

“Fine,” Bård huffed and dug out a small device from his pocket. He tossed it on the low table in front of him. Calle looked at the small rectangular object with a blank expression.

“That's making the noise? What is it?”

Bård looked at his knees. He kept his gaze averted from Calle when he mumbled that it was a continuous glucose monitoring device.

“Oh,” Calle said, keeping his eyes away from Bård.

“Yeah,” Bård muttered and put the object back in his pocket.

“For the... ?” Calle waved his hand in the air, not really describing anything with the vague gesture.

“Yeah,” Bård repeated, more quiet than before.

Vegard looked at his friend and brother in stunned silence.

“For crying out loud, it's a monitoring device because someone was careless with his blood sugar levels one too many times. It's diabetes, okay, not some monster you can't name.”

Bård and Calle kept their gazes down, embarrassed for reasons they couldn't define. Vegard tossed his hands up and slouched back in the chair, crossing his arms. They were silent for a bit longer, the final moment of tranquility before the controlled chaos of the live show would start.

The peace was broken by electronic beeping.

“You going to sort that out?” Vegard asked, sounding crabby. Bård dug out the device again to see why it was making the noise. He recognized Vegard's tone as the one he used when he was concerned about his brother. The more worried Vegard became, the angrier he sounded. Bård hid his faint smile behind a conveniently placed arm.

“Could have a little snack I guess,” Bård muttered after checking the reading. He was certain he had taken his medication earlier before dinner. The monitoring machine was ridiculously sensitive and it kept beeping at him with the smallest changes in his glucose levels. Irritating thing, really, but after a couple of close calls their mother had insisted on the monitor, at least for a month or so. The electrode under his skin didn't really hurt, but he could constantly feel it and it made him self-conscious about moving. Their dance rehearsal earlier had been a disaster with Bård being paranoid about ripping the thing taped to his stomach off by accident and thus not paying enough attention to the dance itself.

“I'll get you something,” Vegard said and stood up. Magnus entered the room just as Vegard left, dodging the shorter man dashing towards the catering area for the crew.

“Hey,” Magnus greeted with the hint of a question in his voice. “People are almost seated.”

“Already?” Calle blurted out. He checked his phone with slightly shaking fingers. “They're early tonight.”

“Let's go start then!” Bård said with genuine enthusiasm and clapped his hands together in unconscious mimicry of his brother. He leaped out of the couch and offered his hand to Calle. The taller man grabbed it and allowed Bård to pull him up to his feet. Magnus preceded them out the door.

“Hope Vegard pees fast,” the young man mused out loud.

“Oh, he didn't go to the toilet, he went to get -” Calle started but was interrupted by a sharp elbow hitting his ribs with bruising strength.

“We can just start without him,” Bård said and ran up the stairs. The other two followed more sedately, Calle rubbing his sore side and Magnus checking that his fly was closed.

They stood on the stage, lights shining in their eyes, blurring the audience into one faceless mass. Bård was on fire, talking non-stop, switching languages smoothly, eliciting laughs from the people filling the large theater. At one point, a dark form came to stand by his side. Bård continued his monologue without missing a beat, dragging his brother into bantering with him.

Soon it was time to disappear back behind the curtains and start the show in earnest. Bård took the monitoring device out of his pocket. Even through the commotions of the audience, he had heard the faint beeping while greeting them. He wouldn't be able to do the show with the machine making noise and distracting him, so he abandoned it on the nearest available surface. Calle didn't seem to pay attention to the movement, but Magnus gave him an odd look. Vegard noticed too and came to put a snack bar into Bård's hand.

“No time,” Bård hissed at his brother. Vegard looked displeased, but didn't press the issue.

“If you have time during breaks,” he whispered back. Bård nodded. The situation was far from critical, he had mainly wanted to just shut the machine up. He could wait an hour, such a short time wouldn't make a difference either way.

“ _You're on now!_ ” a voice in Bård's earpiece said. He looked at his brother and Calle and all three nodded. Time to put up another performance, to reach for their limits and surpass them.

*****

The show proceeded smoothly. Bård and Vegard introduced their video clips, talked with the night's guest and allowed Calle to have his minute. During commercial breaks they talked to each other, commenting on how the show had gone and suggesting small adjustments to fit the mood better.

Most of Vegard's suggestions were stupid and Bård shot them down without giving justifications. The mere sight of his brother's face was irritating him and the lights shining in his face were too hot. Bård discreetly slipped a finger under his collar and tugged at it. His heart was pounding and sweat was starting to gather on his brow. Stupid lights, bothering him so. They should talk to whoever was in charge of their brightness and tell them to put them lower. How was he supposed to run the show when the blinding glare was nearly making him shiver.

Behind the curtains, a small rectangular device was beeping furiously. People working behind the scenes passed it without knowing what it was, frowning at the offending object.

“Time for Gullsjansen!” Vegard declared enthusiastically since Bård had taken too long to make the announcement. Their cards specified who was supposed to say which line, but it wasn't unusual for them to get caught in the moment and switch.

Magnus ran to the scene accompanied by thunderous applause. His golden suit glimmered in the light and made a faint rustle as he took his place in front of the three small podiums. His large, slightly sweaty palms gripped his stack of cards.

“Tonight's contestants are Bård, 12 years old, from Bodø, and Vegard, 102 years old, from Bollywood, and Calle, 37 years old, from Lista, the greatest town of all.”

The audience showed their appreciation by laughing and applauding. Magnus soaked in the attention, nodding with what he considered was a display of humility.

“Thank you. Tonight, we have a competition of dexterity and coordination. Each competitor will juggle three balls while walking around this handily placed golden pylon,” Magnus pointed at a regular traffic cone that had been painted golden and placed in the middle of the scene.

“The winner is the one who is quickest to complete the task with most balls in the air. If you drop all balls, you instantly lose.”

The audience murmured excitedly at that. Calle and Vegard smiled at them, but Bård was looking at the cone. It seemed completely out of place and pointless. A burst of laughter from the audience made him realize he had said it out loud.

“It very much does have a point though,” Magnus said and winked. Half of the audience got the pun and laughed while the other half shook their heads.

“Calle goes first!” Magnus declared and the competition started.

Calle was not the best juggler, but he managed to keep all three balls in the air. He proceeded slowly, nearly missing the cone in his deep concentration with the juggling. Two minutes later, he had returned to the podiums and held the balls out for Bård, who Magnus had declared as the next contestant.

Bård looked at the white balls in front of him. They were cradled in Calle's hands, sitting there like over-sized eggs. Bård knew he was supposed to do something, but in that moment, he could make no connection between the balls and himself.

“Bård, unless you've developed magical powers, the balls won't juggle themselves,” Magnus not so gently prodded him.

Bård tried to explain that he would love to do what he was supposed to, but the world didn't make any sense to him right then. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. The lights shining in his eyes made a sickening circle around him and changed position. Bård felt something pressing his back, marveling at how the lights were suddenly shining from above him and not from the sides like before. Darkness descended upon him accompanied by his brother yelling obscenities.

*****

“Fuck!” Vegard shouted as he ran to where Bård had been standing. His younger brother was laying on the floor, looking frighteningly pale. Vegard could've kicked himself for not noticing before. The show had consumed his mind, pushing the worry about Bård to the side. It returned ten-fold after witnessing his brother look around with a blank expression and crumbling to the red carpet.

Vegard rolled Bård to his side and put his fingers on his neck. He didn't need to time the pulse against a watch to understand that it was much too fast.

“Fuck!” Vegard repeated and patted his hand against Bård's pockets. Usually his brother carried glucose tablets with him for these kinds of situations. Vegard had often seen Bård take out a small tablet from his pocket and chew it, perking up visibly after doing so. The pockets of Bård's suit were empty and Vegard growled in frustration.

“No wait. Liquid. Unconscious already,” he muttered to himself and stood up. Calle and Magnus had to step aside or get knocked over when Vegard dashed towards the backstage area, jumping up the stairs three at a time.

“What's going on?” Vegard heard Magnus ask, sounding as young as he was for once. He ignored the question, not wanting to delay even for a second longer. He ran to the room where they had been waiting before the show. He had left a bottle of Pepsi on the table. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. By some strike of divine luck, the catering people had missed the Max and given him regular Pepsi when he asked for it earlier.

Vegard grabbed the bottle, noting with relief that there was some left still. He turned around, nearly crashed into someone who had followed him to ask what was going on, side-stepped the person in a rare display of nimbleness and ran back to his brother. Calle and Magnus were standing uncertainly next to Bård's prone body.

“Move!” Vegard snapped, causing the others to give him room. He sat on the floor next to his brother and gathered his upper body against him. When Vegard had maneuvered Bård to lean against him with his head upright, he opened the bottle and gripped his brother's chin with his left hand, easing the jaws open.

“Come on Bård, swallow!” Vegard urged. He poured a small amount of the fizzy drink into his brother's mouth, silently begging him to reflexively swallow. “Come on!”

The only sounds in the studio were Vegard's frantic pleas and the quiet murmuring of the audience. The cameras had stopped rolling and the show had been taken to commercial break as soon as Bård had collapsed. The director was telling Vegard that they would soon return to live feed through his earpiece, but he didn't pay any attention to the voice. All he could see was his brother, so pale and limp against his chest. Vegard's own heart was pounding against his ribs, making his hands unsteady.

“Please, Bård,” Vegard's voice broke. He waited, trying to force his mind into concentrating. If Bård couldn't get the glucose he needed from the drink, Vegard would have to give him some in an injection.

“Calle,” Vegard said, not taking his eyes off his brother. “Can you look in the drawer and see if there's this box?”

Calle strode swiftly over to the desk and knelt behind it. There was a drawer, hidden from the cameras and the audience on the left side of the desk. He pulled it open and found what Vegard wanted. By the time he brought it over to the brothers, the commercial break had ended and the cameras were trained on them again.

“The monitor!” Vegard said as soon as Calle had given the box to him. “I need that too.”

“I'll find it,” Calle promised and left the stage in search of the beeping machine he had noticed Bård abandon earlier. Hopefully no one had taken it.

“Will someone tell me what's going on?” Magnus asked for the benefit of the audience and on his own behalf.

“This isn't working,” Vegard said and turned his head towards Magnus, looking like a kicked puppy with his sad brown eyes. He was holding his arms around Bård now, hands protectively on his chest. Trails of dark liquid ran down Bård's chin.

“What isn't?” Magnus asked, but he was pushed aside by Calle who returned with the device. It wasn't beeping anymore: it was wailing in a continuous shrill blare. Vegard looked at the reading and frowned.

“Shit, I have to give him the shot,” Vegard said and ran his hands through his hair. He had never gotten comfortable with giving his brother injections, even after all the years. With shaking hands, he opened the box.

“Is that insulin?” Calle asked, not knowing what to do to help. He was lost in the situation, not having faced his friend in such condition before.

“Glucagon,” Vegard said while preparing the syringe. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold the delicate instrument. “Someone take his jacket off.”

Calle knelt down next to the brothers and together with Magnus they stripped Bård of his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeve.

“Oh fuck,” Vegard breathed and put the syringe against the white skin on Bård's arm.

“Should I do that?” Calle offered, sensing his friend's distress.

“No!” Vegard snapped. He pulled himself together and inserted the medication. It would take a moment to see any change in the blood glucose levels. He picked up the small monitor in his hand anyway and looked at it, too anxious to let his gaze fall on Bård who was still too pale and appeared lifeless.

Eventually the machine stopped its noise and went back to intermittent beeping. Vegard watched the numbers rise and sighed in relief. He felt the warning movement in Bård's muscles and managed to lean him over a second before his brother started vomiting. He distantly heard Calle and Magnus gasp in surprise but he ignored them. This was Bård's typical reaction and almost soothing to Vegard, since it was familiar. He reached over to grab Bård's jacket and proceeded to wipe his mouth with it. He still held his brother against his chest, feeling his breathing even out and the shaking recede.

*****

Sound was the first sense to return to Bård. He heard someone talking through the thick layer of darkness that secluded him from the world. He felt something warm and unyielding behind his back. He smelled something foul but also a faint hint of mint beneath it. He couldn't really make sense of what he was feeling, but he knew he was safe.

“Bård?”

Someone called him. Bård wanted to answer, but he was still too deep in the dark to surface.

“Can you drink now?”

He felt hard plastic against his lips and he opened his mouth. Liquid soon followed and he swallowed it, cringing at the sweetness yet grateful for it since it overpowered the foul taste that had previously encompassed his mouth. The darkness receded further.

“Hey,” Vegard said and looked into the blue eyes that opened. Bård made contact with him, appearing lucid. “How you feeling?”

“Weird. Dizzy,” Bård tried to define the sensations assaulting him. He understood that he was leaning against his brother's chest, but he could still swear that the ground was revolving swiftly under him.

“You need to drink a bit more,” Vegard said with the strange gentleness in his voice that Bård only ever heard when he was flat on his back. The bottle was lifted against his lips again and Bård allowed his brother to feed him the rest of his Pepsi. Bård wasn't overly fond of the non-diet kind, but he drank anyway. He heard his monitoring device give more unhappy beeps. Useless piece of junk.

“Looking a bit better,” Vegard said. It was unclear whether Vegard was referring to the reading on the machine in his hand or his brother. “But you need to eat something.”

Bård was monstrously hungry but he didn't really feel like eating. He said as much to his brother and earned a fist against his arm.

“Anyone have any fruit or crackers or something?” Vegard asked and Bård heard a slight tremble in his brother's voice. He felt almost ashamed when he realized that his own carelessness had caused it. He didn't always notice himself when his blood sugar levels started dropping, but if Vegard was with him when that happened, Bård knew he could count on him to react to even the smallest hint of trouble. And when the situation advanced to beyond Bård's control, Vegard would be there to take care of him.

“I don't really tell you how much I appreciate you, do I?” Bård said. Vegard looked at him in stunned silence. He picked up the monitoring device again and checked the numbers.

“Hey, that food!” Vegard snapped, thinking Bård was taking a turn for the worse again. Maybe he was. Maybe he needed a small medical emergency to be honest.

“I mean it though,” Bård said and looked up. He was still comfortably leaning against Vegard's chest, feeling better by the minute. His brother was holding him tenderly, making Bård feel secure with strong arms by his sides.

“You know I've got your back,” Vegard whispered, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“For life.”


End file.
